Is There Anything Funny about Graphic Design?

True wit depends on the mastery of various languages. The witty
writer is a verbal acrobat who relies on precision timing and acute
understanding. The great humorous writers are known for crafting
figures of speech into vivid mental pictures. As a classic example,
let's take the phrase dog bites man, which is neither funny
nor news. Conversely, man bites dog is both news and
somewhat funny because it twists the ordinary. But, more to the
point, man bites man is not only a surprising concept but a
vividly absurd picture revealing two simultaneous concepts. At the
risk of committing humorcide through over-analysis, I submit
that in this phrase one man is not only physically assaulting the
other in a rather unconventional manner, but that since the word
“bite” also suggests ridicule or criticism, it gives the phrase an
additional level of meaning, causing it to be more ironic than its
literal content suggests. Another example of such skillful verbiage
comes from the mid-20th century critic Max Eastman, who quotes a
young WW I soldier after the latter's first visit to Paris's
legendary Folies Bergere: “I never saw such sad faces or
such gay behinds.” This is a sage observation conjuring a real-life
portrait of the vivacious but overworked sex objects who danced the
famous can-can night after endless night in the Parisian nightclub.
What these examples suggest is that the most skillful wit must
appear effortless while being loaded with meaning.

Graphic wit is no exception. The best design solutions must be
effortless and free from the self-conscious and tired conceits of
all belabored humor. Yet if this is true, then why is it that the
pun is one of the most significant components of graphic wit and
design humor? As the oldest form of humor, the pun is also
considered in the world of letters—as in the world—to be the lowest
form. There is no kind of false wit that has been ridiculed as much
as the pun. Yet a pun, the dictionary tells us, is “the humorous
use of a word or words which are formed or sound alike but have
different meanings, in such a way as to play on two or more of the
possible applications; a pun is a play on words.” Edgar Allan Poe
complained, “The goodness of the true pun is in the direct ratio of
its intolerability.” An old English proverb goes, “Who makes a pun
will pick a pocket.” And who can forget that old grade-school
put-down, “P.U. (you stink),” which is two-thirds of a pun. Indeed,
throughout the ages this venerable form has been so abused that
The New York Times forbids puns in its headlines unless the
word substitution is so inextricably linked to the meaning of the
story that the pun is incidental.

Why are puns necessary in graphic wit and humor? The rules that
govern verbal language do not translate precisely into visual
language. Thus, The New York Times has no rules governing
visual puns. Graphic designers' canon of usage is different because
our means of communication—our language, syntax and grammar—are
different. A picture is worth a thousand words because so much more
information can be evoked through one image than in a sentence or
paragraph. In visual language, it often is necessary to substitute
one image for another, or one symbol for another—not just for
purposes of jest, but to enhance meaning. Therefore, the pun—at
best a kind of shorthand, at worst a strained contortion—describes
graphic symbols used to simplify complex concepts into accessible,
often memorable images.

Paul Rand, in A Designer's Art (Yale University Press,
1985), says visual puns are the keys to some of his most successful
designs, since “they amuse as they inform.” The elevation of the
pun from jest to graphic communications tool must also be credited
to one of Rand's former Yale University students, Eli Kince, whose
Visual Puns in Design (Watson-Guptill, 1982), argues that a
pun is the conveyor of credible visual messages. If the pun is the
lowest form of verbal humor, Kince reasons, this may beg question,
“Is graphic humor at the low end of the evolutionary scale?”
Charles Lamb wrote that puns are “a pistol let off at the ear, not
a feather to tickle the intellect.” Remember too that the best
verbal puns are not simple-minded rhymes but truly surprising (even
shocking), yet decidedly logical, manipulations of language.

Families logo by Herb Lubalin.

The best visual puns have a similar effect on perception as,
say, a right cross to the chin. Ouch! With the logo for
Families magazine, the late typemaster Herb Lubalin created
a rather literal symbol for family out of the letter ili resulting
in a memorable icon. For the reader or viewer, it was also a rebus,
which, when recognized, added another level of appreciation. When a
visual pun works-specifically, when two distinct entities merge to
form one idea-the effect stimulates thought and sensation.

Groucho Marx's description of diversity in verbal humor applies as
well to graphic wit and humor, but one difference between verbal
and design humor is apparent: the latter cannot always be measured
by laughter alone. As a selling tool, graphic design humor might be
described as a loss leader—a means to grab attention and lure the
customer or client into the store. Humor, then, cannot be too
outrageous, lest the purpose be defeated. Even as a political
weapon, humor similarly functions to sell a message, sometimes by
ridicule, but is often subtle or sardonic, not side-splittingly
funny. At best, humorous design will force a laugh, bring a smile
or cause a double-take, which is nothing to be ashamed of. Indeed,
like hypnotic suggestions, the goal of graphic wit and design humor
is to subvert the subconscious and thereby earn a market share of
memory.

A.M. Cassandre's 1932 Dubonnet ad.

Humor is a mnemonic—something that helps (or forces) us to
recollect. This can be manifest in wordplay, like a slogan or
jingle, or picture play, such as a logo or trademark. An historical
example of picture play is a three-panel Dubonnet poster designed
by A. M. Cassandre in 1932, which even today is memorable for its
playful wit. In his marriage of word and image, Cassandre's comic
trade character the “Dubonnet Man” sits drinking the wine at a café
table. In panel one, he is rendered mostly in outline, his
partially painted arm outstretched with glass in hand; underneath,
the word DUBONNET is rendered half in bold, the rest in outline,
focusing the viewer's eye on DUBO. In the second panel, the
character is drinking as his outlined body begins to fill with
color and detail, and another letter, the N, is now bold, revealing
DUBON. And in the last panel, a completely rendered
character is pouring from a bottle to refill his glass, and the
DUBONNET is completely bold. This brilliant visual “jingle” has
multiple levels of meaning: in French, dubo means “something
liquid,” dubon means “something good,” and Dubonnet is
indeed a wonderful wine. The fast cadence of DUBO, DUBON, DUBONNET
is appealing for its almost rhythmic syncopation, but there is
something else going on here—in addition to the sophisticated
verbal and graphic tricks, Cassandre used a more fundamental aspect
of humor to achieve the final result, an activity called the “play
principle.”

Play is a kind of abandon, yet, as we know from small children,
play is their work. In the initial stages of a project (and
possibly throughout), the designer ostensibly becomes an adult
child, allowing attachments to shift capriciously from one
plaything to another. In design, however, playthings are type and
image, which are really puzzle pieces to be more or less
instinctively moved, juxtaposed, and even mangled and distorted
until a serendipitous relationship between formal and contextual
problems is achieved. Even the most rigidly systematic design
solutions are born of play.

Many otherwise very talented designers are unable to translate a
good verbal sense of humor into visuals—some have the knack, others
do not. The exemplars are those who invent new forms rather than
conforming to tried and true formulae. They might take chances with
subjects and themes that have traditionally defied humorous
treatment, like annual reports, and they realize that the easy
solution is not necessarily the best, and that effective humor is
not always an easy solution. While certain formal characteristics
are common to all humor in design, like exaggerated scale, odd
juxtapositions, and ironic relationships, these same traits also
apply to “straight” design. To be certain, a big head placed atop a
little body does not ensure hilarity, and a piece of nostalgic clip
art used in a work does not a priori make it funny. Humor in
design is an art, not a set of unfunny rules.

About the Author: Steven Heller, co-chair of the Designer as Author MFA and co-founder of the MFA in Design Criticism at School of Visual Arts, is the author of Merz to Emigre and Beyond: Avant Garde Magazine Design of the Twentieth Century (Phaidon Press), Iron Fists: Branding the Totalitarian State (Phaidon Press) and most recently Design Disasters: Great Designers, Fabulous Failure, and Lessons Learned (Allworth Press). He is also the co-author of New Vintage Type (Thames & Hudson), Becoming a Digital Designer (John Wiley & Co.), Teaching Motion Design (Allworth Press) and more. www.hellerbooks.com